


Notebook

by Spookys_House_of_Fanfic



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Phasmophobia (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Actual Murder, Alternate Universe, And oh boy do they get their obsessions, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempted Murder, Bittersweet Ending, Blatantly ignoring the signs of being haunted, Blood and Gore, Buckle in fellas it's gonna get dark, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Foreshadowing, Gen, Ghost Hunting, Ghosts, Hallucinations, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Suicide, It really depends on your perspective to be honest, Kidnapping, M/M, Murder, Noncon is not actually in the fic but it's very much implied so I'm tagging it anyways, Phasmophobia AU, Psychological Horror, Revenge, Suicide, Two yanderes actually, Unhappy Ending, Yandere
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-27 13:20:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30123354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spookys_House_of_Fanfic/pseuds/Spookys_House_of_Fanfic
Summary: Sapnap has one goal: Get closure.Armed with a flashlight, his determination, and a journal, Sapnap and his friends break into the town's old prison to identify just what type of ghost killed his boyfriend.  But things are never simple when dealing with the dead...Especially when it starts to become clear that there's more to the story than meets the eye.
Relationships: (Implied near the end), (hinted and nonconsensual), (past), Alexis | Quackity/Sapnap, Clay | Dream/Sam | Awesamdude, Clay | Dream/Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 49





	1. 8:00 PM

From the start, the entire investigation had been a bad idea.

George knew this, Bad knew this, and Antfrost knew this. Hell, even Sapnap knew this. But it was something that the pyromaniac had to do -- In a way, it was a form of closure. And the rest of their little group knew this.

Quackity had been… Well, maybe not the one true love of Sapnap’s life, but certainly someone that he cared about deeply. He had been the one to hold him close, to make him smile, to comfort him back when Dream fucked off the face of the planet with nothing but a cruel, overly dramatic text to say “goodbye”.

He taught Sapnap to trust again, even when the man that he had hoped to be his soulmate for so long openly admitted to only viewing him as a toy for his amusement. Quackity had taught him to laugh over the fact that Dream didn’t even have the courage to say it to his face, or even give any sort of warning before disappearing out of the blue.

Yeah, Quackity was somebody that Sapnap could see himself spending the rest of his life with.

But then, Quackity was found dead outside the old town prison.

It was sudden as hell, and there was no good reason for him to even  _ be _ there. Obsessing over prisons had been Sam’s thing, and look at where that got  _ him. _ Dead, in the same damn place that Quackity had been found years later.

Why had his boyfriend even gone there? He hadn’t even been in contact with Sam since… Well, around the time that Dream left. It was no secret that Sam used to have a huge crush on the blond, only really staying in the friend group because of him. It was a pity that he had faded away from the group as soon as Dream wasn’t there anymore, but it was probably to be expected. Like, the guy just found out that the man he’s been crushing on was a huge asshole, hanging out with his friends was probably just rubbing salt into the wound.

At least Quackity had been there for him, the two of them often going off to do their own thing. To this day, Sapnap doesn’t know where they went, or what they did, but it didn’t really matter. If it was important, he would have known. Sam and Quackity had also fallen out of contact, eventually.

Anyways.

They had been at their high school reunion when someone mentioned that Sam had been killed. And Quackity, no doubt reminiscing over his friendship with him, had turned pale. That night, he had gone off to go investigate.

They found his mutilated body the next morning.

It had been horrifying, to see the man he loved so brutally destroyed. Quackity’s body was all but torn to shreds, organs spilling out and wrapped around a bleeding neck to hang him from the ceiling. There were so many gashes along his person that the coroner couldn’t even figure out which one had killed him.

What they  _ did _ know that it was the exact same way Sam was found.

It was something paranormal, no doubt. For a murder method that specific to be used twice, in the same location, four years apart? It was suspicious as hell. And, while Sapnap had originally believed that there was nothing in that prison (he and Dream had spent the night when they were younger), it was the most obvious explanation.

Which is why they were here, driving a van, with all the ghost hunting equipment that they could find and afford. And here, surrounded by his friends, Sapnap couldn’t help but feel as though they had a chance of doing this.

No, scratch that.

  
They  _ were _ going to do this.


	2. 9:00 PM

Despite the drive to the prison being relatively quick, it’s another hour before their ragtag group is actually able to go in.

After all, the equipment is sensitive, especially when they have no actual idea on how to use it. And even then, they can’t figure out how to set up the damn sanity meter for the life of them. Who even needs that kind of stuff, anyways? Sapnap is pretty sure that they can keep an eye on their own mental states, for fuck’s sake. And besides, they have those pills to restore it, or something.

There’s four of them, so this should be pretty easy, especially since they can carry so much more equipment. Bad, of course, had insisted that everyone carry a crucifix. Something about stopping hunts, or whatever. It’ll just make it harder to bring along actual important stuff, though, so Sapnap discreetly swaps it for a ghost writing book when he’s sure that Bad isn’t looking.

He’s an atheist, anyways.

The black-haired man makes eye contact with George hiding his own crucifix behind one of the monitors in the van, and flashes him a quick grin. George responds by putting a finger against his lips as he picks up an EMF reader.

“So, we got everything, right?” Bad confirms, and the two of them quickly look away from each other to avoid suspicion. If he notices anything, he doesn’t say it.

“Yeah, I think we have all the stuff we need,” Ant replies, and just like that, the mood darkens.

They’re really doing this, aren’t they? They’re running headfirst into a murder scene to try and identify an overly aggressive ghost. Sapnap looks around the room, and he can tell that everybody is thinking the same thing.

_ Is it worth it? _

Sapnap nods in determination.

“Alright,” he states, completely serious for one of the few times in his life. “Let’s go.”

\---

The prison gates are, for some reason, wide open. The body retrieval team probably left them that way by mistake, which was incredibly ironic considering they had been so adamant about making sure that nobody got into the building. Their apparent forgetfulness is amplified when Sapnap opens the front door.

“That’s… Odd,” Bad says, unease clear in his voice as they walk into the darkened building. “You’d really think that they would have locked it, right?”

“They were probably in a hurry,” Ant replies, looking around the room warily, as if the ghost is going to jump out at them at any given moment. “They probably just forgot.”

“I mean, can you blame them? They were probably…” George trails off as he takes a look at Sapnap, seeming to think twice about what he was going to say. “Yeah.”

Sapnap doesn’t call him out on it.

After all, the other three are only here for  _ him, _ and his dangerous quest for closure. It’s  _ his _ goofy, wonderful boyfriend that got disemboweled, not theirs. He’s the one who lost the most important person in his life.

_ Again, _ his mind says, but he squashes that down. Dream wasn’t important, Dream was just an asshole. He made that much clear.

God, why was he thinking so much about his childhood friend? He hadn’t thought about the other in years, so why now? It was the grief, it had to be. It was reminding him of the heartbreak from Dream’s betrayal, and being in the town that they grew up in didn’t help in the slightest.

“SAPNAP!”

The man jumps out of his thoughts as George yells. He whirls around, trying to figure out the source of the distress, before realizing that the other three are looking at him with concern.

“Are you okay? You just… zoned out.”

Sapnap nods, taking a deep breath in.

“Yeah, I’m... I’m fine. What were you saying?”

Nobody believes that, he can tell by the looks of pity, but they also don’t bring it up.

“Bad was talking about something,” George replies, gesturing his head at the taller man. Bad nods.

“I just thought that maybe it’s a good idea to split up for a bit. This place is huge, you know? And I mean, we’ve all got walkie-talkies, and crucifixes to stop a potential hunt, so we should be fine!”

Sapnap nods, though he can feel the side-eye that George gives him. It’s fine, a piece of wood can’t help them anyways, he’s pretty sure.

“That sounds great. Look for the coldest place, right?”

“Yep! Oh, and check your notebook -- Sometimes they’ll write in it when you’re still moving.”

“That’s not creepy at all,” Sapnap states, turning to walk off. Still, if it locates the bastard that took Quackity from him, he’ll deal with it.

“Alright, fucker,” he murmurs to nobody in particular. “Let’s see what the hell you are.”

Now, the thing is, Sapnap had decided to wear a jacket that evening. It was a nice leather one that he had gotten at a thrift shop in high school. It looked great on him, and it was pretty high quality, too. It kept him a lot warmer than wearing two shirts did, which is why he chose to wear it here tonight.

Which was quite a shame, because it meant that he couldn’t feel the temperature of the room drop ever so slightly around him.


	3. 10:00 PM

With the exception of a few random jokes over the radios, the next hour is spent in complete silence. It’s kind of creepy, really, especially when Sapnap can’t shake the feeling of being watched. At least nothing had written in the old notebook that he’s holding out like a dousing rod of sorts. He doesn’t even know why he thought it was a good idea -- After all, not all ghost types cared enough to write in the, right? So it really wasn’t any tell of if he was actually alone.

And he was pretty sure he was alone. Despite the fact that more than once, he had thought that he felt someone right up behind him, each time, he had turned back to an empty hallway. Was it the ghost? Probably not, since he’s still alive, but there’s always the possibility that it just wants to stalk its prey.

Had Quackity gone through this? How far had he even gotten? The reports said that he had been found outside, but didn’t ghosts normally leave the body where it was? If so, then why was he killed immediately while the four of them got to explore as they pleased?

Ant’s voice over the intercom interrupts him from his thoughts.

“I found an old coffee cup,” he says, almost randomly. “It’s super rotted, but I think that it’s from Niki’s Bakery. I see the logo.”

“What? This place closed down, like, fifty years ago. Why the hell is there a damn coffee cup?” Sapnap answers, a bit irritable.

“Yeah, but  _ Niki’s _ closed down two years ago. That thing must have been here for a while.” If George notices the aggressive tone in his voice, he doesn’t mention it.

Sapnap is tired, he has to be. He hasn’t found anything, and the prison has one hell of a draft despite it being the middle of the summer. Hell, if he didn’t know better, he’d say that the ghost had been following him since he walked in.

“Do you think that somebody was here? Like, back when Niki’s was open? Ooh, can you see the date on it?” Bad seems a bit excited at that. Sapnap doesn’t know why, it’s just a cup.

“Hold on, let me check.” A pause. “It is from…. March fifteenth, three years ago. Wow, that’s old. Name’s still rotted, though.” George and Sapnap both chuckle at that.

But, before they can go on their way:

“March fifteenth?” Bad very clearly has worry in his voice. “Guys, isn’t that… Isn’t that the day Sam died?”

Oh, fuck.

“Do you… Think it might have been his?” George asks warily, and Sapnap shrugs despite the fact that none of his friends are here in the room with him. The black haired man proceeds to rub his arms, trying to keep warm. Damn, this jacket isn’t really doing much, is it? He should’ve brought a winter coat, for fuck’s sake.

But right now, the cold isn’t what’s on his mind. Instead, it’s the nature of the coffee cup.

“Why the hell was Sam drinking coffee in the prison? Was he having some fun event here, or whatever?” He rolls his eyes. Who the hell brings a cup of coffee when they’re going to a  _ prison? _ Let alone an abandoned one?

“Who knows, maybe he was doing some weird sex roleplay and that was for the half-time.”

Sapnap snorts at George’s remark.

“Yeah, makes sense -- He probably had some weird warden fetish. The real question is, who the hell agreed to it?”   
  


“Obviously Dream. I mean, why else would he be such a dick about leaving? He had his Daddy Dom right there waiting for him.”

Sapnap barks out a laugh at that. God, the thought of it is so fucking funny -- Dream, leaving the whole group for some dick. It wasn’t something that any of them ever thought he would do, but his “fuck you” text was also uncharacteristically aggressive, so who the hell knew what he was actually like.

You really think you know someone.

The black-haired man progressively loses himself in more and more giggles. He drops his notebook as he clutches his sides, trying to focus on actually breathing properly throughout the fit of laughter. In fact, he’s so enveloped with the apparent humor of the joke that he doesn’t even notice when the flashlight flickers, or how the unnatural cold of the room disappears as it does.

“That’s fuckin’ great,” he wheezes over the intercom, ignorant of how it doesn’t go through. It doesn’t matter, anyways, because by the time he’s wiping the tears from his eyes, the flashlight is steady again, the radios are back, and the cold has returned. It’s almost like nothing had happened at all.

Sapnap bends down to pick up the ghost writing journal -- And freezes.

There, on the pages, is a single sentence.

**_Y O U D O N ’ T K N O W W H A T T H E Y D I D T O M E ._ **


End file.
